[Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte]@TWC D-Link book
Wuthering Heights

CHAPTER IV
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And Hareton has been cast out like an unfledged dunnock! The unfortunate lad is the only one in all this parish that does not guess how he has been cheated.' 'Well, Mrs.Dean, it will be a charitable deed to tell me something of my neighbours: I feel I shall not rest if I go to bed; so be good enough to sit and chat an hour.' 'Oh, certainly, sir! I'll just fetch a little sewing, and then I'll sit as long as you please.

But you've caught cold: I saw you shivering, and you must have some gruel to drive it out.' The worthy woman bustled off, and I crouched nearer the fire; my head felt hot, and the rest of me chill: moreover, I was excited, almost to a pitch of foolishness, through my nerves and brain.

This caused me to feel, not uncomfortable, but rather fearful (as I am still) of serious effects from the incidents of to-day and yesterday.

She returned presently, bringing a smoking basin and a basket of work; and, having placed the former on the hob, drew in her seat, evidently pleased to find me so companionable.
Before I came to live here, she commenced--waiting no farther invitation to her story--I was almost always at Wuthering Heights; because my mother had nursed Mr.Hindley Earnshaw, that was Hareton's father, and I got used to playing with the children: I ran errands too, and helped to make hay, and hung about the farm ready for anything that anybody would set me to.

One fine summer morning--it was the beginning of harvest, I remember--Mr.Earnshaw, the old master, came down-stairs, dressed for a journey; and, after he had told Joseph what was to be done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me--for I sat eating my porridge with them--and he said, speaking to his son, 'Now, my bonny man, I'm going to Liverpool to-day, what shall I bring you?
You may choose what you like: only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back: sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!' Hindley named a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she was hardly six years old, but she could ride any horse in the stable, and she chose a whip.


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